


Not Really What I Had in Mind

by Eyriektll



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Personal Growth, Rating May Change, Slow Build, nsfw chapters later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-19 22:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyriektll/pseuds/Eyriektll
Summary: Slow-burn fic ME: Andromeda, how an ill-prepared, reluctant 22-year-old heroine would grow into the job and role of Pathfinder and how an annoyingly confident, smooth criminal forces her to face herself, her family, her friends, her history and her situation because, if she wants him AND she wants to save the Initiative, she's going to have to grow up and fight with him.  This veers from canon with new plot, characters, extensions on existing characters, etc.  NSFW chapters will be marked when they come, but it'll be awhile...I did say slow burn.





	1. I can't

**Author's Note:**

> And so I begin a new fanfic because I'm so annoyed with Bioware, Origin and Andromeda right now--what, did they hire 12-year olds to write the game this time around? At least the other Mass Effect games had some sense that adults had been involved in the writing and creation. And what's with only 20 minutes of the only male in the game who isn't annoyingly clingy or needy and who is bad-boy fascinating?

“Come with me to Andromeda, kids!  It’ll be a Ryder family outing, just like Mom would have wanted!” Sara raised the bottle in silent salute to her absent father before drinking.  Vetra had turned out to be astonishingly good at finding contraband liquor, but Sara didn’t usually disrespect the non-renewable Milky Way resource by chugging it.  It had been a really shitty few weeks, though, since she’d been rezzed from cryo—oh, yes, and then rezzed again after dying when the SAM transfer didn’t go so well.  

She continued her mocking diatribe, “A new galaxy!  Adventure!  Discovery! What have we got to lose!”  She angrily scrubbed at the tears that refused to stop falling. “Yeah, Dad, what have we got to lose…just you, a few hundred rebels, every other ark….” 

She let her voice trail off.  She would not catalogue the losses; it was too much; there were too many.  She could not, however, avoid dwelling on the most recent “adventures.”  The Remnant structures and fabrications on Eos had terrified her.  Yes, they were a fascinating mystery, but first and foremost, they were terrifying.  Every experience she’d had since waking up seemed to have served no other purpose than to point out to her how easy it was to snuff out life.  No oxygen? Poof! Gone!  Temperatures a little too warm?   Too much radiation?  Not enough water? Poof! Dead!  Piss off some ancient structures that could build their own army of killer robots?  Poof!  You’re outta there!  Drive over the wrong sand dune directly into a camp of militant aliens intent on controlling said structures?  Poof! Choir of angels time!

Taking a long pull from the bottle, Sara struggled to rise from her seat on the conference room floor.  It was the last place the crew looked when searching for someone, and no one hung out up here.  She liked it that way, didn’t really know how to chum it up, had never been good at that.  Her body wasn’t quite as cooperative as it should have been.  Sitting too long, she acknowledged…well, that, and maybe too much alcohol.  But drinking seemed to be the only way to get numb enough actually to rest a few hours every night.  She knew she could ask Dr. T’Perro (Lexi, she reminded herself) for a nighttime sedative, but she was pretty certain any relief would come with a lecture.  Maybe it was just one more tiny grain for her huge guilt train, but it was starting to feel like the tiniest thing might overturn the entire enterprise, and she didn’t have a way to cope with that.  

Sara staggered over to the vid console.  Yep, still blinking—someone still wanted to chat.  She couldn’t remember who or what, but that didn’t really matter.  Her list of “Pathfinder To-Dos” was SAM’s responsibility; so many needs, she couldn’t even remember them all.

His (its?) voice broke through her silent ruminations, “Ryder, your blood alcohol level is now at .15 percent.  Shall I take steps to purge your system, or would you prefer to suffer the aftereffects tomorrow?”

Sara blew a raspberry at her new best friend.  She was not okay with this thing in her head, not that anyone had even bothered to ask her if she would be.

The voice came again, “I am aware of your disdain, Pathfinder, but surely there is a more mature way of expressing it?”

“Ugh…you sound like my father and brother all rolled into one hugely annoying microchip, SAM.”  She turned toward the ramps, moving slowly since whoever was driving the ship seemed to be rocking it.  She grabbed the railing to keep from falling.  “Give me time to get to the showers.  It’ll be easier to clean up the vomit in there.”

The last time she’d drunk this much…she couldn’t remember, but it couldn’t have been that long ago, just a few days…Sara hadn’t realized what SAM meant by purging.  She had expected a nice liver and kidney cleanse—that would have been easy to deal with.  But her parents had written SAM’s original code, and her father had never been much of a drinker, had probably made SAM into the prohibition-touting AI that he was today.  So, SAM’s method was much more immediate and painful, only marginally less painful than having a hangover while enduring Drack and whatever target practice was on the agenda for tomorrow morning.  

Gil was still pissed about the mess she’d made in the engine room last time…whenever that was.  And she had thought he’d seemed so laid back when she first met him.  At least no one would be in the showers to see her “purge.”  They were all engrossed in the cargo bay watching Gil fleece Peebee and Vetra, offering unsolicited advice that frequently had Peebee threatening to flush the nearest airlock.  Sara continued her unsteady progress, glad the crew was bonding, wishing she knew how to both join them  _ and _ lead them.

******

SAM apparently carried a grudge.  Sara had a terrible headache when she tiptoed her way to the galley the next morning, seeking her morning caff and hoping it wouldn’t include any loud noises from her crewmates, like breathing.  Someone must have called a meeting, though, because there were way too many people in the galley and the tiny hallway just outside.

In the most annoyingly cheerful (and  _ loud _ ) tone possible, Liam announced, “Morning, Ryder!”  Of course, everyone turned to look at her.

She thought about doing an about face for her quarters but wasn’t sure her head or her balance could manage that without caff.  She settled for a glare in everyone’s general direction.  It quickly turned into a wince.  Glaring hurt.  Glaring was off the table for now. 

Suvi, angel that she was and nearest the caff machine, recognized Sara’s problem.  She grabbed a mug and poured, passing it as quickly as the hot liquid could be safely transferred into shaking hands.  Noticing Ryder’s hands shaking, Suvi regained possession of the mug, turning to place it on the table.  “Sit, Ryder, before you fall down,” she said in her calm, soothing voice.

Suvi shuttled the others out of the galley and down the hallway, admonishing them to get to their duty stations for the day or to get ready for the mission if they were due to leave the Tempest. 

Now alone, Sara sipped the hot, bitter brew, holding the mug with one hand and her head with the other.  She really couldn’t remember what was scheduled for today.  “SAM, are you talking to me yet?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Ryder.  Why wouldn’t I be talking to you?”

Yeah.  Right. A passive-aggressive AI—her father living on in her head.  “Nevermind, SAM.  Could you just remind me what I’m supposed to be doing today?  I remember it had something to do with Drack and whatshisname, the newest guy.”

“You mean Jaal, the Angaran resistance representative sent by Evfra to assist and observe us.  We arrived at the Angaran world called Havarl after you…fell asleep…at 2:47 a.m. Nexus time.  Your first  priority is to contact a group of scientists.  I believe that helping the scientists will aid us in proving we are here as explorers looking to coexist peacefully with the Angaran, rather than as conquerors or pirates looking to take advantage and harm them.”

Sara took a moment to think about that pause around, “fell asleep.”  Stupid, judgmental AI!  He (it?) had all but accused her of passing out, dead drunk.  She had slept all of three hours.  Passing out would have been much longer!  She took another moment to wonder why SAM’s voice in her head didn’t make her cringe the way Liam’s had, then she decided none of this was more important than ingesting her caff and getting her system to some form of functionality.

This was how Dr. T’Perro (Lexi, dammit!) found her a few minutes later, still holding the mug with one hand and her head with the other, supported by the tiny galley table.   _ Lexi _ held a syringe and placed two pills on the table.  

“Who blabbed?” Sara asked morosely, “Peebee or Suvi?”

Lexi spoke soothingly, “Here, Ryder, this should help.”  Without asking or waiting for permission, the doctor injected whatever was in the syringe with no ceremony whatsoever.  

“Hey!” protested Sara, but she couldn’t really think of anything else to say, and it wasn’t like it had even hurt.  Besides, she trusted that the doctor wouldn’t give her something not meant to help.

Lexi sat determinedly across from Sara and watched her for a moment.  Finally, she laced her hands together on the table, leaned forward, and spoke, compassionate but firm, “This has to stop, Pathfinder.  You are hurting yourself for no good reason.  You need to find someone to talk to about all of this.”  

She paused to assess Ryder’s response.  When Ryder refused to so much as bat an eyelash, she continued,  “You, more than anyone on this ship, need an outlet.  You’re holding everything in and flaying yourself over every decision, every event, even every accident.  It doesn’t have to be me, but it does have to be someone.  As your doctor, I will have to demand it.”

As if realizing that issuing a demand might be tantamount to waving a flag at a bull, she slid her hands across the table to Sara’s free hand and squeezed.  “Please, Ryder, let one of us in.  Let us help you.”

Of course, SAM had to have his say as well. “Dr. T’Perro is correct, Ryder, you must deal with all the things that have happened and are happening to you.  I have observed that the rest of the crew manages by talking about these things, by sharing their fears, sorrows and other emotions.  I have also reviewed many studies of those experiencing trauma, danger and great emotional upheavals in their lives.  Those who managed to remain mentally stable and healthy through their ordeals most often talked about their problems with their support network of friends and family.  You need such a network.”

A chill crawled its way down Sara’s spine.  Apparently SAM and Lexi had been “observing” her for awhile.  Thinking about the timing of this two-pronged attack, she asked through clenched teeth, “Did SAM talk to you about this, Dr. T’Perro?”

She saw the woman’s flinch, barely perceptible, but Sara had been around Asari her entire life.  She knew how to read most of them.  

“It wasn’t like that, Ryder!”  Her hands moved up to grasp Sara’s arm in both her hands, firmly, but not tightly.  “We’re just concerned about you.  We’re your friends, dammit!  We want to help!”  

Sara knew the other woman was in earnest, saw the honest concern in her eyes, that she did care and not just about the role of the Pathfinder.  Hell, everyone knew Cora would have been the better choice for the job.  But this was yet another betrayal, another thing Sara couldn’t control. 

Grabbing the two tablets, Sara slugged them down then lurched to her feet.  “What none of you seem to get is that I didn’t ask for any of this.  Not my father dying, not Scott in a coma, not the damned job of Pathfinder, certainly not the disaster that is our shattered dream of Andromeda, none of it.  And most of all, I didn’t ask for this fucking thing inside my head to make it his business to fix me by letting everyone else know just what a screw-up I am!  Just leave me the hell alone, all of you!”

She slammed her way out of the galley and up the ladder to the bridge.  “Suvi, let the ground team know we’re out in ten!”  She knew she could have relayed that order through SAM, knew that it wasn’t Suvi’s job to corral her team, but dammit, that was the problem!  Ignoring the wide-eyed, concerned looks she was getting from the pilot and science officer, she turned to the loadout room and started donning armor.  Getting to work would help.  She would think about how much she had just sounded like a whining teenager later.  And after that, she’d probably have to work on her apology.

************

 


	2. Afraid of heights...among other things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Havarl...

“Your heart and breathing rates are dangerously high, Pathfinder, as are a number of your body’s chemical receptors.  There are any number of negative long-term problems this could create.  Should I regulate?”  

SAM’s voice in her head was just one more strain on an already overloaded system.  Sara clenched her teeth and tried to calm her breathing while looking into an abyss. “Leave it alone, SAM.  Fear is good.  It’s supposed to keep us from doing stupid things.”

She chanced another glance down and shuddered.  She’d barely stopped in time to avoid going over the edge.  She couldn’t see the bottom of the chasm because it seemed hidden in fog or clouds, but she figured a whole level of atmosphere between her and the bottom wasn’t exactly a good thing when it looked to be a several hundred foot drop just to the fog, clouds, whatever.

“What’s that, kid?”  Drack’s voice cracked behind her, startling her almost into stepping off the edge again.  

Jaal caught her arm and pulled her back. “Careful there.  Someone has damaged the bridge controls, but there is an easier way down if we follow the chasm to the north.”

Sara barely had time to shoot Jaal a grateful glance, let alone respond to Drack, before wincing as something took out her armor’s shielding.  

Drack growled and jumped between her and the shooters, she hoped.  “Get to cover, kid!  You’re too easy a target!”  Then he was gone, her only way to track him the explosions, weapons fire and maniacal laughter of a krogan gearing up to full battle rage.

Jaal waited only long enough to ensure she was protected by one of the rock outcroppings that seemed to be everywhere on this planet before also disappearing into the noise and chaos of battle.  Sara deployed her turret and sighted through her weapon’s scope, looking for targets to take out, still acutely aware of the yawning chasm directly behind her.

SAM warned, “Two coming up on your left, Pathfinder.”  She searched the heavy jungle growth for signs of movement.  Seeing nothing but trees, giant ferns and vines, she released a small stream of blue biotic power, hoping to flush them.  It worked, and her turret took out one of the combatants while she managed the other with her rifle. 

Sara shuddered, trying not to think about just how many people she’d already maimed or killed today.  These weren’t the marauding Kett whom she didn’t seem to mind shooting.  These were Angaran, the same people to whom she was supposed to be proving her trustworthiness.  She tried to take her cues from Jaal who was, she hoped, better able to distinguish friend from foe, but that still didn’t mean that she wasn’t hurting a lot of people who had family and friends somewhere who cared about them.  

On a logical level, she understood that it was them or her.  She didn’t really function on that level, though.  Her entire life had been a struggle to keep from blowing up at her so-very-logical family.  She wondered once again what it would have been like if Mom had been alive to come with them.  Would her father have been so willing to take chances?  Would he still be here?  Or even if Scott had been the first awake, the new Pathfinder instead of her?  Taking a deep breath, she mentally shook herself, “Head in the game, Sara; that or die.”  She resighted her weapon, looking for moving targets.

A few minutes later, Sara heard both her companions shout the all-clear.  She groaned as she stood up.  She’d already fallen off a landing dock and jump-jetted her head straight into the ceiling of one of the monstrous Remnant structures today.  Drack had been too busy laughing to be of much use, but Jaal had at least held out a hand to help her up, even if it was apparent he’d been struggling to hold back a grin as well.  Her wounded dignity hadn’t allowed her to accept the help, but at least it had been offered.  God, why hadn’t she spent more time with Scott in physical training?

She knew the answer to that--she’d been much more interested in how things worked, in digging up new mysteries and trying to figure out the universe, in avoiding contact with her father and in doing everything she could not to  _ be _ him.  And here she was--in his role, doing his job, with his damned AI in her head, with everyone looking to her to save the Initiative and prevent the extinction of five sentient species newly arrived in Andromeda.  Just over one hundred thousand had begun this trip.  How many were left?  Did anyone even know?  Or would they just keep dying until no one was left?  How many would mean the end of possibility for a species to continue?  Her spirits sank further as she considered the possibility of being one of the last, of watching all hope die.

She clenched both fists, trying to get a grip on her emotions and force her mind back to the mission.  She had forgotten, however, that she still held the Avenger and was genuinely startled when it went off.  Her two companions shouted as the bullets hit the ground, luckily some distance away from harming anyone.  

Sara cringed and said, “Sorry!  Accident!  It was jammed!” to cover her stupid, rookie mistake.  But, really?  That’s what she was, a stupid rookie.  She had no freaking clue what she was doing!  

Drack, as usual, gave her some perspective. “S’okay, kid.  No harm.” Then he growled, “But I’m warning you--you shoot me, and I’ll flatten you.”  And with that, he holstered his weapons and started heading north.

Jaal gave her a glance that seemed to indicate he thought she might be a bit, “simple” and moved to follow the Krogan.

“And once again,” Sara muttered, “Sara Ryder proves what an idiot she is and that the only reason the universe hasn’t gone down in flames already is because the Kett hadn't also figured it out.”  Sara continued muttering under her breath as she followed her two bodyguards.  She didn’t even think she had the right to call them squadmates.   “I’m just a walking piece of meat for hauling SAM around.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself, kid,”  Drack yelled back at her, “you took down four of the bad guys last fight--nothing to laugh at.  We just gotta work on your coordination.” Jaal had disappeared in the foliage, scouting out on their left flank. “And maybe your hand-to-hand.”

“And probably your conditioning.”

Sara thought she heard quiet laughter somewhere in the jungle to her left.  She rolled her eyes and demanded under her breath, “SAM, if you don’t stop telling the others everything I do and say, I’m going to fry your circuits and recode you as an air cycling unit!”

“While I don’t doubt your ability to do so, Pathfinder, such an action would be counterproductive, as the entire initiative relies on us to interact with the Remnant technology.”  

“Ugh! Just like Dad! An arrogant-as-shit AI.  And we all know I’m the interchangeable part.”

“Is this part of what has been bothering you so, Ryder? The certainty that any human will do as an interface for me?  I can relieve you of that notion, actually.  Our interface is attuned to Ryder biology and physiology.  No other human, nor any person of any other species would provide the same level of functionality, with the exception of your brother, Scott.  This is why your father chose you, Ryder.  He saved you because you were his child.  He chose you as Pathfinder because, in order to save the Initiative and its entire enterprise in this galaxy, you were the only option.  I believe he would have wanted you to understand his decision.  It was part of the reason he had the implants given to both you and Scott before leaving the Milky Way.  You were the insurance policy, as I think the saying goes.  There are only...”

“SAM?” Sara interrupted.

“Yes, Ryder?”

“Stop talking, please.  I need to concentrate on staying alive here.”

“Yes, Ryder.”

Sara forced what SAM had said about her father to the back of her mind.  She had more immediate concerns at the moment, since she was once more staring down into an abyss Jaal seemed to be saying they were going to jump into.  One final nagging thought occurred to her while she argued with the two males about the necessity of an obviously suicidal leap into the unknown (who really did that?):  did SAM have code written for when to call her Pathfinder and when to call her Ryder?  She thought there might be a pattern there.  And then she was screaming as Drack pushed her over the edge.


	3. Learning What's What

“I hate you all!” Sara bit out between clenched teeth.  It hadn’t been a hard landing.  Sam had compensated the jump jets in her hardsuit to accommodate, and she’d just shuddered a bit as the impact moved up her legs and spine.  No, the problem had been that she had been terrified.  She was terrified of heights, feared them almost irrationally.  Someone pushing another person off a cliff edge?  Just wrong!  Eos had had several bad moments, but the worst?  That moment the Remnant vault had shuddered, the floor had disappeared, and she had begun falling.  She had been certain she was going to die.

“Shut up kid, and find your weapon.”

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if someone hadn’t pushed me into a damned abyss!”

Drack rounded on Sara, “Unlike you,  _ we _ know what you’re capable of.” He thrust a taloned finger in her face, shaking it to emphasize his words, “You need to start trusting us, trusting your gear, trusting your abilities and, most of all, trusting SAM.  You have to take chances to figure this shit out!”  He grinned evilly at her, showing off a LOT of teeth, “And if you refuse to do it on your own,  _ we’ll _ make it happen.”

Sara’s eyes widened, “You’re a freaking Krogan!  That translates to pretty much indestructable.  I, on the other hand, am a human--you know, soft and squishy, inside and out.”  She mimicked his own words and actions, poking her own finger at him, “Unlike you, we experience pain, lots of it, when we’re damaged.  Very, very few of us, and I would argue  _ those _ are psychopaths, can use pain to induce anything like a Krogan battle rage.”  She stepped toward him to get as close to his face as she could with their disparate heights, showing her own teeth, probably in more of a grimace than a dangerous smile, but hey, you work with what you have.  “And if you ever do something like that again,  _ I’ll _ tell Kesh you tried to kill me.”

They stood like that, face-to-face and toe-to-toe, just long enough for Sara to begin feeling ridiculous and maybe just a little intimidated.  But Drack, vertical pupils contracted to slits and yellow eyes narrowed, let out a grunt of amusement finally, “See, I told you, Jaal!  Kid’s got guts--we just gotta help her get ‘em out in the open.”

He turned to stomp away, but another thought occurred to him and he turned to glare at her again, “First rule of survival: never let go of your weapon!  Never!  Second rule:  Always have a back-up!” He turned again to walk away, almost as though offering an example since the two most obvious things on his back were the huge shotgun and assault rifle he carried.

“ _ Your _ rule, not  _ mine _ ,” Sarah glared at the old man as he walked away to continue the search for her dropped Avenger.  “And I like my guts right where they are, thank you.”

Sara huffed and grudgingly asked, “SAM, any sign of it?” 

“No, Pathfinder, it is difficult to get a read down here.  There is a lot of interference from all of the Remnant structures.”

Sara looked around and then all the way up to where she’d been pushed. It looked dangerous from here, beautiful but dangerous.  The chasm walls seemed alternately made up of the blue-black material of all the Remnant constructs and living growth, with the thick vines and lovely but deadly flowering plants that grew everywhere.  “I’m thinking this whole chasm is one giant Remnant structure, just overgrown with jungle.  Odd though that none of the other structures have experienced similar growth.  Maybe this one was damaged?”

“You may be correct, Pathfinder, but there  _ is _ the river.”

“What?  You don’t think a river can flow through a Remnant structure?  You mean you somehow missed the electronic goo flowing all over the Eos vault?  The stuff that almost electrocuted me when I barely touched it?”

“Actually, you  _ stepped _ directly into it, and the only thing that saved both of us was your armor since it created a massive shock arc that pushed us out of the electrified substance.”

Sara pursed her lips and grimaced, “Not how I remember it at all.”

“I can assure you, Ryder, that I have perfect recall and can even replay audio-”

“Shut up, SAM.  That was a rhetorical statement meant to indicate that I would like to rewrite personal history, but since I can’t, I’m going to choose to ignore it.  Surely you learned things like that with Mom and Dad?”

“It will take some time to become accustomed to the idiosyncrasies of your personality, Ryder.”

“No shit, SAM, ya think?  And ditto!”

Sara wondered if an AI could be offended but was mostly just content that SAM had finally stopped talking in her head.  She’d have to watch a vid of herself conversing with him sometime to see how weird she looked seemingly having entire one-sided conversations with someone who wasnt there.

She heard a shout of triumph and looked up to see Jaal brandishing her rifle.  Good, they could get back to work.  She thanked him when he handed it over and checked it for damage.

“It had a soft landing on a bed of ferns.  No damage,” said Jaal.

Sara thanked him again and looked around.  “Okay, why’re we down here, again?  Oh, yeah, find the ancients.”  She considered what she’d been told by the Angaran scientists, “So... we should just...follow the river and look for an entrance?

The others agreed, and they set off.

 

************

 

“Oh, for God’s sake, just shoot him already.” Dar Malden turned away in disgust, nodding at Willem.

Willem raised and cocked his weapon.  The human tied to the chair cried out, “What? No!  No!  Wait! Alright, just wait.  I can fix this.  You know I can fix this, Dar.  We’ve been on the same crew lots of times.  You used to run with us when you were with Sloane.  Just give me a chance!”  He talked fast to forestall Willem.  “I’ll call the others.  We’ll get the parts from the warehouse.  Kain knows how to get in and where they are, but he’ll need me to get the cases open.”

Vidal watched the vid screen as two of his crew did their work.  The three were in a filthy little box of a room his group had been using for interrogations for several months now.   _ About time to change that,  _ he thought _ , they’d been there long enough _ .  Vidal knew his guys wouldn’t shoot Roddy.  He hadn’t given that order, only told them to beat the information out of him.  Roddy’s face was a bit of a mess, and he probably had a broken nose, maybe some cracked or broken ribs, but no permanent damage.

Malden did his part to look skeptical, and Willem stood quietly staring, weapon still targeting Roddy.  “I dunno, Rod,” Malden shook his head, “I happen to know Sloane’ll kill you if she catches you stealing from her, and you seem pretty afraid of dying.  What’s to keep you from heading straight to her throne room and telling her everything if we let you go to make the deal?”  His voice turned flat and unemotional, “No.  You don’t walk until it’s done.”

Roddy sobbed, his hands clenched around the chair arms, but nodded, “Okay, okay, I’ll stay here.  Talk to Kain.  Maybe he can get his girl to work the cases.  I’ve been training her up.”

Malden stepped behind Roddy and looked to the camera, brow raised. Vidal said, “We have their box tapped and watched, so we’ll know.  Keema will contact them.”

Malden touched his forehead to acknowledge the order and turned again to Roddy, “We’ll call Kain, see if he’s interested in saving your hide.  Willem here is going to keep you company.  I wouldn’t talk to him if I were you; he doesn’t like people, but he kinda enjoys hurting things.”

Roddy just whimpered as Malden left the room.  Vidal gave one final instruction, “Have Willem gas him.  If we still need him later, I want him disoriented, unsure how long he’s been here.”

“Will do, boss,” answered Malden.

 

****************

 

Reyes Vidal was satisfied with how things were moving along.  He wasn’t  _ happy _ by a long shot, but he was satisfied.  His team was shaping up, and Sloane, unbeknownst to her, was sending him new recruits almost daily.  He wasn’t sure what had happened to her on the Nexus, but it had unhinged her.  She had once been an honorable woman, working for the Initiative, head of Nexus security and just trying to do what was right.  These days, Sloane’s idea of “right” was whatever she or her lieutenant, Kaetus, or any of her other favorites decided was right.  Their impulses, needs and wants created right and wrong in Kadara Port.  There was nothing ethical or moral in those decisions any longer, and a lot of people had died, were dying.  Fewer though, since Vidal had decided to do something about it.

He activated his omni-tool and made the call to Keema, waited while she closed the door to her office for privacy.  “Talk to Kain and Giri.  They cooperate or lose Roddy.”

Keema nodded, “We give them the same three chances?”

Vidal agreed, “They will have three opportunities to win your trust and a place in your Resistance.  Remind them why they want to join the Resistance and get out from under Sloane.  She’ll go for them as soon as she realizes Roddy is out of the loop...and she’ll be making that discovery very soon since the datapad is on its way to her right now.  Tell Kain their first opportunity for a place in the Resistance will be tonight--they get the hardware with no signs the cases were ever opened.”

 Keema nodded again.  “Priorities?”

“The tech, obviously.  But we also want Kain’s girl, Giri.  She has some of Roddy’s hacking skills.  He’s been training her.  We need at least one of them, though I would prefer both.” 

“Alright, I’ll see to it.”  This was why Vidal genuinely liked Keema Dohrgun.  She was a professional, and she was quick to understand his instructions, even anticipating them at times.

She cleared her throat and looked directly at him in his omni-tool screen, “Now I have one for you.  There’s a rumor the human ark and pathfinder made it and that she can actually interact with the old vaults and their technology.  It is my understanding that she is on Havarl.  If she can awaken the vault there as they claim she did on EOS, then maybe she can do it here as well.  We need to find a way to get her here.”

Vidal was surprised.  He had only heard a portion of this news. It was rare for Keema to know something before he did.  “I had heard about the Hyperion showing up,” he said, “Not that Alec Ryder had died.  Who is the new pathfinder?”

Keema answered, “His daughter.  I don’t think it’s common knowledge yet.  Doubt Sloane knows.  I only found out from a contact in security on Aya a couple of hours ago.”

Vidal frowned, considering.  He would have to think about the possibilities later.  Right now, he had a different priority.  “I’ll look into it once we get the safehouses up and running in the Badlands.  Get us that tech tonight.”

“Will do,” Keema responded and signed off.

Vidal considered the loss of Alec Ryder for a moment.  He’d known the man, briefly.  He hoped the daughter wasn’t the same sort of loose canon.


	4. This is how it's going to be?

Sara slapped at the giant mosquito on an exposed portion of her arm where her armor plating had been damaged. The piece had finally fallen off earlier during a wrestling match with something resembling a dinosaur from an old vid she’d seen.  She badly needed better gear if her days were going to be like this.  She would also need more blood--the mosquitos here were vicious, and they  _ really _ seemed to like her.  Jaal and Drack they didn’t even notice, but her?  She may as well have had a bright yellow, neon, blinking arrow that said, “Eat here!” over her head.  

She couldn’t get off this damn planet fast enough.  Better the sand of Eos that dug into every nook and cranny than the bugs, the pseudo-dinosaurs and the evil little vines that occasionally tried to take bites out of unwitting passersby.  She’d only been unwitting once--the divot in her neck was covered in medi-gel and a bandage.  Her two companions had, at some point earlier in the day, decided she wasn’t quite the disaster she seemed.  She had an uncanny knack for survival despite the small injuries and the challenges they’d faced in tracking down a guy named Taavos so they could get into the Remnant vault. She had decided that the people who had built all the Remnant tech had had a few screws loose and had eschewed all low-tech options in their ultra-tech engineering,  _ like stairs _ .

“Why aren’t there any nice, flat planets in this galaxy?” she opined as they approached the chasm again, almost the exact spot she’d been  _ pushed _ from earlier.  Now everything was dark.  What passed for night on Havarl had fallen.  The daytime seemed like twilight, but nighttime here was like the stygian abyss, dank, heavy air and no light aside from that in their suits.  Standing at the edge of the chasm again, Sara tried to swallow back her panic.  Yes, she’d already done this once today, but  _ now _ it was dark.  Who knew what was down there.  Maybe they should just camp for the night and examine options in the drab light of morning.

“Want I should push ya, kid?”

Sara started violently and took a step back from the Krogan.  For such a big beast of a guy, he could move quietly.  He grinned at her and she took two more steps back for good measure.  But this brought her up against Jaal who took her arm to steady her...or to keep her from running away.

Shaking her head, Sara protested, “There has to be another way down there.”  She wasn’t sure if she was asking or stating, maybe both.

“Hmmm…,” Jaal peered over the edge.  “I suppose to human eyes it might appear intimidating.”

“It doesn’t ‘appear’ anything at all,” whined Sara, “It’s pitch black.”

“Is it, really?”  Jaal seemed genuinely surprised by this.  “You mean you cannot see in the dark,  _ at all _ ?”  This last was stated as though it were a serious shortcoming, and considering...things...maybe it was.  

“You mean you thought I was doing all this stumbling about just because I’m clumsy?” she returned.

The two of them glanced at each other and nodded, “Yes, absolutely,” said Jaal.

“Urrgh!  Next time you two are staying in the ship!  I’ll bring Cora and Liam!”

Jaal laughed as though she’d just told an amazing joke, “Then there would be  _ three _ humans stumbling about in the dark, apparently!  The Roekaar would be highly entertained.”  

Drack had to have his say as well, “And you would all three still be wandering around the edges of the chasm looking for a way down.  Whereas _ we _ figured it out  _ hours _ ago!”

“That wasn’t a  _ way down _ ,” sniped Sara, “that was the Krogan version of a track and field event!”

Drack thought about that for a moment, then unbuckled his three weapons harnesses, handing them one at a time to Jaal.  “Not real sure what that means, kid, but let’s get this over with.”  

He hauled her up in his arms, took two giant leaps toward the chasm, and with an exultant battle cry, leaped into the abyss.

Sara screamed, of course...like the girl she was...the one with acrophobia.  And she locked her arms around the heavily armored Krogan...of course.

 

***************

 

Vidal steered the shuttle into a banked turn, lining up the landing site.  Keema sat beside him reading from a data pad.

“I have an idea how to get the Pathfinder to Kadara,” he said.

Keema looked up from her work, her expression inquisitive.

Vidal settled the shuttle down gently on the pad before answering, “There’s a fugitive, Vehn Terev,  was your Moshae’s bodyguard then betrayed her to the Kett on Voeld.  He’s on the run.  Where do you suppose he’s going to run to?”

Keema looked surprised and a little angry but thought about it for a moment, “Kadara is his only choice.  He needs to hide out where no one knows him.  Try to stay anonymous until enough time goes by.  He couldn’t do that on any of our homeworlds.”

Vidal nodded, “Exactly what I was thinking.  Chances are, he’s already here.”  He watched Keema’s features turn positively stormy.

She spoke, her normally jewel-like eyes fiery, “I would very much like to have a few minutes alone with him.”

He continued settling the shuttle into standby mode while he said, “Maybe you’ll get that chance.  Work your contacts; get a description of him so we know what to look for.” 

“Alright.  What about this meeting?  Are you coming in?”

Vidal stood, shrugging out of his armored flight jacket and into a weapons holster with two pistols.  He pulled on a beaten leather jacket and hat, added quick-load magazines to his pockets along with the shuttle’s remote. “They know me.  Used to work with a couple of them on Sloane’s crew, moving merchandise.  Far as they know, I’m your hired bodyguard.  Won’t talk.  Standard non-verbals apply.”

Keema nodded her agreement, and they both turned to the shuttle’s now opened door.  Vidal touched her arm to pause her for a moment, “These are dangerous people, Keema.  We need the tech they’ve created for water rec, but be careful.  They shot one of Sloane’s flunkeys a couple of weeks back when he threatened to shut them down.”

“I’ll be careful,” Keema said before she disembarked and, head held high, walked across the landing pad bridge to the metal steps leading up to a small tri-level.  

Vidal followed, quickly catching up to her and stepping in front as a bodyguard would.  He rapped on the door which opened almost immediately.  A boy of twelve or thirteen peered out.  Vidal was shocked for a moment.  How long had it been since he’d seen a child of any age?

The kid said, “You’re here for Duquesne and Mort.”  He gestured to his chest with self-importance,  “I’m Mort.”  He opened the door wider, and Vidal examined the single room that took up the entire level.  His glance took in three guns, Mort and a guy lounging on a sofa with a datapad in hand whom Vidal assumed to be Duquesne.  

He nodded to everyone, stepped into the room to let Keema enter and took a position by the door where he could watch everyone.  He hooked his thumbs in his belt and assumed a relaxed posture against the wall.  Two of the guns nodded back; they recognized him and dismissed him, knowing the odds were in their favor here.  Exactly as it should be.  He went out of his way to appear unthreatening, nondescript, smarmy or ingratiating as circumstances required.  It was all about misdirection, and he was apparently becoming a master at it--considering no one had yet figured out what he was up to.

Keema swayed her way into the room, gracefully acknowledging the others with small bows of her head. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”  She even smiled at Mort who, almost involuntarily, smiled back.  “We’re here in good faith, Mr. Duquesne.  Three hired guns seems a bit...ahem...faithless.”

Duquesne stood, unsmiling and stepped forward, careful not to interfere with the line of sight of any of his men.  He was tall and thin and had a rounded face and small eyes.  Vidal never trusted anyone with small eyes, too hard to read.  Duquesne spoke, his voice a surprisingly smooth tenor, “I’m sure you understand that we’ve had some...people...expecting us to give up our systems without proper payment.  They are here to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

Keema locked eyes with Duquesne for a moment, then she relented somewhat, “Very well.  Shall we get down to business?”

Duquesne nodded and turned, sweeping his arm in a gesture toward the sofa, “Shall we sit?”

Vidal coughed quietly.  Almost before he’d finished, Keema was already shaking her head.  “I prefer to remain standing, thank you.  I have a few questions.  For starters, given the proper equipment and supplies, how long does it take to make a single product?”

Her question had been aimed at Duquesne, but he looked to the kid and nodded.  Mort had the skinny, underfed look of a lot of young teens, clothes baggy on his thin frame, light brown hair flopping to cover his left eye.  He straightened proudly, “About ten days.  That could be shortened with someone’s help, anyone who knows welding and wiring or ‘bot programming.”

So, the kid was the real player here.  Duquesne was just the owner, not the brains.  Explained why the kid had been wakened so early.  Must be a nanobiotech genius.  He watched them carefully, trying to figure out the relationship.  No physical resemblance at all.

Keema continued, “What uncommon items would be needed for larger scale production?”

Mort answered, “Trace amounts of rare elements including element zero.  Although the process is self-replicating, many of the elements involved are consumed and processed into energy.  They must periodically be replaced in an operative system.”

Keema turned back to Duquesne, “Has Sloane found out yet?”

For the first time, Vidal could read Duquesne.  He answered, “No,” but that was a lie.  His mouth had tightened into a barely visible grimace and his eyes had swept to his left.

Keema had seen it, too, but she didn’t let it show,  “Very well, what sort of security do you have for the production and storage phase?”

Duquesne--Vidal had decided he didn’t like the man--laughed derisively, “What do I look like?  Midas?  You’re lookin’ at it.”  Another lie, but not much of one.  Probably had one, maybe two, positioned outside somewhere.

“Alright,” Keema seemed to accept his words,  “I may be able to provide a better location, more security, protection from Sloane so long as she doesn’t send the entire force against you.  But first, I’ll need a demonstration.  I need to see the process, start to finish, see how it works, how long it takes.”

Once again, Duquesne nodded at Mort.  The kid moved quickly to follow the unspoken commands.  Vidal and Keema watched in fascination as Mort pulled a leaf from a plant sitting on the table beside what Vidal assumed to be the water reclamation system.  Using a dropper, he extracted liquid from a plastic container and let one drop fall on the leaf.  The leaf immediately began to shudder, curl in on itself and blacken.  Yup, the acid water from outside; earth plants were particularly susceptible to it.  Keema nodded her acknowledgement, so Mort continued.

Lifting up the container of acid water, Mort poured it into the system’s reservoir.  When he reached up to do so, his sleeves fell back to reveal his wrists and lower arms.  There it was.  The kid’s wrists and arms were covered in bruises, cuts and scabs.  He was being held by Duquesne and the others, probably chained when he wasn’t working.  Vidal felt the heat of anger beginning to rise.

Mort continued the demonstration, picking up a datapad from the table, fingers flying over the pad, faster than anyone Vidal had ever seen.  And he’d seen some pretty fast workers.  Keema asked questions, exhibiting curiosity about the technology and how it worked as well as its ability to function long-term.

The remote in his pocket vibrated.  Vidal heard a yelp from outside; it had been very muffled, so unlikely anyone  in here would have caught the sound.  Someone had attempted to get into the shuttle; that either meant sabotage or theft.  There was about to be a firefight.   The only reason for this group to attack was because they wanted the shuttle.  That would require his and Keema’s deaths.  He sneezed.

Keema moved to the other side of the water rec system, talking as she went, examining the thing from all sides.  She had moved to give him clear sight lines to all the known weapons in the room and to shelter the boy, if needed. 

He wouldn’t make the first move, but it was going to be a close thing.  He knew one man was down outside.  Only a krogan could withstand the shuttle’s shield shock and stay conscious.  The man who’d tried to access the shuttle was not a krogan, or they would have heard about it by now.  So that left the three in here, maybe one outside, plus whatever Duquesne might be capable of.  He checked his watch and loosened the clasp.  The numbers weren’t ideal, but he had enough tricks to make it work, he thought.


	5. Working on it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara and SAM start to work it out

 

Sara gazed at the wall, the lights and the console before her.  It was all so fascinating.  She _wanted_ time to study it.  She _wanted_ to understand it and to understand the beings who had created it.  They were a puzzle every bit as interesting as the Protheans had been back in the Milky Way.  Maybe even a bit more advanced than the Protheans had been.  She’d never seen evidence that the Protheans had attempted terraforming on the system, let alone galactic, scale, but that’s what she was starting to believe about the Remnant builders.  First, Habitat 7, then Eos, and now Havarl?  Were there vaults on every viable planet in the system?  

She understood, through her own observation and SAM’s unwelcome commentary, that Remnant technology, like that of most of the Milky Way, had been based  on mathematics and physics.  But the choice of building so very much larger than necessary. . . that sort grandeur of scale implied something about its creators.  For instance, on Earth as well as on Thessia, the massive structures of the ancients had all been built to create a sense of immense power, immortality, a way to instill fear and promote reverence and obedience amongst the ancient peoples.  She had wondered for some time if the Protheans hadn’t at some point in Earth’s ancient history visited early humankind and created that awe.  There was no evidence--or at least, it had not yet been found or firmly linked to such visitation.  But there was evidence of their presence on several other living planets in the galaxy.  Now, she wondered if something similar had happened here, in Andromeda.  These were the questions she wanted to delve into, _needed_ to understand - ”

“We got company kid!” Drack shouted, already firing his weapon and tossing a grenade.  “Quit daydreaming, and get a move on!”  

She flinched a bit at the sudden noise interrupting her reverie, but, having learned the hard way to listen to Drack first, ask questions later, Sara dropped behind the console, deployed her turret and drew her weapon.  The Remnant tech wasn’t friendly, at least not until _after_ they’d purged and reset the vaults.  Then everything seemed to get down to the business of fixing the planet rather than safeguarding the tech.  She wanted to understand where the builders had gone, what had happened to them, why the vaults had been turned off and what the Kett had to do with all this, if anything.  But she had to be Pathfinder first, Sara Ryder second, at least until the Initiative had a foothold in Heleus.  She ran after Drack and Jaal.

*************

Several hours later, everyone was exultant.  The planet was already beginning to recover.  The Remnant vault was cleansing the poisons from life on the planet.  Yet, there were already requests for the Pathfinder and her team to do more, call Addison, figure out why some creatures were super-sizing, find the Moshae.  It never ended.  There was no time to draw breath, to think, to feel, only to act.  And it was wearing Sara down.  How did the others do it?

Dr. T’Perro (ugh! Lexi!) prompted Sara to lie on her stomach for a full scan.  “I particularly want to check the  connections between your brain and SAM’s implant since you got hit pretty hard with the electric goo once again.  You need to quit falling into that stuff,” she admonished.

Sara groaned into her crossed arms, glad Lexi couldn’t see her embarassment-flushed cheeks as she lay on the med-bay bed.  “I know.  It’s just that there were Remnant bots all around and nowhere to go but backward.”

“Sounds to me like a good way to die, Ryder.  We can’t lose you.  Right now, you’re the only one who can manage the Remtech, as Peebee’s calling it.  You’ve got to get a handle on the Pathfinder thing.”

Lexi’s words were like hammers in Sara’s mind and on her heart.  “You think I don’t know that?” she ground out, voice harsh and anguished. She felt the tears track down her cheeks and fall onto her hands.  “Everyone keeps telling me to do this, do that; they all _want_ something from me!  And I’m still just trying to figure out what’s going on.  I keep thinking maybe it’s all just a nightmare, and I’ll wake up back in the Milky Way on a dig somewhere, everything normal.”  She clenched her fists and teeth, trying to stop crying, “God, I want that so badly.  Scott could be awake, Dad alive…,” her voice tapered off.

Lexi’s voice came more softly, “Goddess! I didn’t realize. . .you haven’t even had a chance to digest all this, have you?  Most of us just woke up in Heleus and started doing the jobs we came here to do.  But you?”  She paused as if thinking for a moment, “You were always supposed to be part of the Pathfinder team.  But Alec and Scott were the fighters, the strike team leaders.  You were supposed to be secondary team, research and analysis.”

Lexi put a hand on Sara’s shoulder, rubbing gently, “I’m so sorry, Sara.  None of us have really thought about what this must be like for you.  I mean, we only talked about how ill-prepared you were, not about how hard all this must be for you to deal with, just how it’s affecting the job you do because we need you.  We expected you to do your job same as we are.  But it isn’t the same, is it?  Yet another reason you were so angry over SAM’s placement.”

Sara huffed indignantly, “Invasion, more like.”

Apparently that was more than SAM was willing to hear without adding his own opinion.  He spoke from the medical console, “I must correct you, Ryder.  It was decidedly not an invasion.  If you believe you were forced, then, by that same definition, so was I.”

That was a new thought.  Just as the others had done with her, Sara had never considered the effect of her father’s choices on SAM, had never really thought that he might have preferred to have a choice about whose head he lived inside.  She was so consumed by that thought, she almost missed his continuation.

“Your father had no time for anything.  He gave you his helmet and initiated the protocol for which we both had been prepared, you with the implant and me with Alec’s programming.  When he was forced to make the choice between your death or his, he made the one any father who loves his child would make.  He was also forced to make the decision about who would receive the Pathfinder Protocol.  Only you and Lieutenant Harper were available.  There was a reason he chose you over Lieutenant Harper; we just do not yet know what that reason was.  He would not have chosen unwisely or spur of the moment, I believe.  Alec Ryder always had a plan.  I will wait until we have all the facts.”  

By this time, Sara was sitting up, wiping her tears away, feeling fully and completely chastised as if she were a cranky 4-year-old the adults around her tolerated because she was too young to understand.

Sam finished, “Perhaps retrieving more of the scattered memories will help.  Regardless, I choose to work with you and through you to aid the Initiative in the way Alec Ryder would have done because that is what he expected.”

Sara winced at this last, “Ouch, SAM.  You’re almost as good at a dressing-down as my grandmother was.  She could make you feel two inches tall and more insignificant than a dust mote.”

Lexi, eyes large and worried, said, “I think we need to have a few sessions of open communication, between you and the crew and also between you and SAM alone.  You’ve both been through a great deal, with doubtless much more to come.  We need everyone healthy and stable, mentally and physically.”

When Sara looked reluctant, Lexi warned, “As your doctor, I could order it.  Voluntary participation would be healthier, though--sort of showing you’re willing to take a step in the right direction.”

Sara remained reluctant, but she knew when she was beaten.  Besides, she was still floored by the idea that SAM might have felt as violated as she had by the sudden transition.   _Could_ he really feel something like that?  She nodded glumly at Lexi, “Okay.”

Lexi nodded decisively in return and grinned, “Excellent.  We’ll begin with tonight’s poker game.  1900 hours in the cargo bay.  For now, I want you to rest awhile.  The shot I gave you should make you tired enough to sleep two or three hours.”

“How dare you-” Sara started.

Lexi interrupted, “Don’t get your undies in a twist, Ryder, I gave you a multivitamin and an allergy shot.  Your system is so drained right now, though, that you’ll be drowsy.  SAM can only do so much before you have to put something in to replace the energy he forces your body to use to keep you going.  My last order for this afternoon is that you eat _a lot_ after you wake up.  

She started shooing Sara out of the medbay, but grasped her arm to look her square in the eyes, “One last thing--NO ALCOHOL!”

Sara grumbled under her breath as she stalked away, brows drawn together to form a scowl she was probably grateful no one could see.  Who the hell played poker without drinking?  What was even the point?

In her cabin, Sara dragged off her pants and shirt then threw herself onto the bed, wriggling to find a comfortable position, disgruntled and agitated and maybe even a little apprehensive about Lexi’s orders to mingle with the crew tonight.  She never knew how to behave, what to say, in social situations.  Scott had always been there to smooth things over.  He was the social butterfly; Sara was the shy introvert.

Her mind began to drift; she was getting sleepy.  Her thoughts returned to SAM’s words from earlier.  She yawned and asked, “SAM?”

“Yes, Ryder?”

“Did you really feel violated by Dad’s decision?”

SAM answered in measured tones, calm and quiet as always, “Not in the same way you did, Ryder.  But it was a jarring shift and an unexpected one.  There was also the concern that the transfer was harming you. Then there was the problem of being somewhere I was decidedly unwelcome.”

Sara yawned again.  “SAM, you know you call me Ryder when you’re talking to me as a person and Pathfinder when you’re talking about the job we do?”

“Yes, Ryder, I am aware.”

“Is that part of your programming, or was it a choice you made?”

“Both.  My programming gives me options.  I choose from among them.”

“But you can write your own code now, right?  That’s part of being an AI and learning?” She snuggled more closely under the covers, letting her eyes close.

“Yes, so long as it does not conflict with my original parameters established by your mother and father.”

Sara’s voice was barely a whisper, “That’s nice--kinda like a part of them is still with me.”  And she slept.

“Yes, Sara,” answered SAM.


	6. Sleeper rounds?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vidal loves it when a plan works out

Vidal glanced at Duquesne.  The man apparently had a sixth sense.  He knew something was up.  Vidal did the only thing left to him.  

Tossing his watch into the middle of the room, he shouted, “Bomb!”  He had opened the door with his other hand and now stepped out and behind it for cover.  Keema had Mort by the arm and was pulling him, speaking soft and low.  Meanwhile, the watch had released a large plume of black smoke that was creating a screen for them.  On the plus side, it was also making it difficult for anyone who breathed it in to do anything other than cough.  On the negative side, Vidal and Keema knew they had to hold their breath.  Vidal pulled his weapons and hissed at Keema to hurry.  

All this had taken about two seconds, long enough for Duquesne to decide it wasn’t really a bomb.  Vidal saw the blue energy of biotics flickering up Duquesne’s arm.  With no choices remaining, he shot the man before he could release the biotic attack.  He couldn’t quite see the other three now with the smoke in the room, but he scattered shots where he’d last seen them.  

Keema and Mort were at the door.  Vidal let them out, then slammed it, and they all three ran as though the great fiends of the desert were after them.  He heard a shout and bent low but kept running for the shuttle.  

He had set the shuttle down with its hatch facing away from the complex of buildings.  He hadn’t been a combat pilot for nothing.  Once they got to it, the shuttle provided cover while Vidal keyed up the lock codes and opened it.  They were inside and seated, Keema and Mort fumbling with their harnesses in the back and Vidal already pulling levers to get lift, before anyone was in position to start shooting at them.  The engines had never been off, only in stealth the entire time, so they were up and away before Duquesne’s men really knew what had happened.

Vidal looked at Keema and grinned, “I do love it when everything goes to plan!”  

Keema gave him a disbelieving glare, at least as much of one as the Angaran’s normally placid features could manage.  “ _ That _ was your plan?”  Her voice was incredulous.  “You almost got me shot!”  As an afterthought she added, “You almost got the kid shot, too!”

Vidal scoffed, blowing air between his lips, “Pfft!  You’re here without a scratch.  No one even died.”

Mort spoke up in a voice still trembling with fear and likely adrenaline, “B-but you sh-shot D-d-d-duquesne!”

“So I did,” agreed Vidal, looking back at the nervous teen and nodding.  His voice deepened conspiratorially, accent growing stronger, “But he is not dead.  Only sleeping.”  He winked at Mort and returned to the flight controls.

Mort was obviously confused but afraid of annoying the man who had just taken him away from his tormentors.  His glance took in the rosary hanging from a peg on the dash.  He looked at Keema, leaned toward her and whispered, eyes earnest with concern and confusion, “Is it some kind of religious thing where no one dies; they just sleep?”

Keema burst out laughing.  Mort looked offended and a little hurt by her laughing at him.  She reached out to pat his arm before saying, “Reyes Vidal is just about the least religious man you’ll ever meet.  Don’t let the string of little beads fool you.  I asked him about them once, and he explained what they are, but he only keeps them to remember his mother.”

Mort nodded, watching the beads almost reverently now, “At least he has something.  I don’t even know who my mother was.”

Vidal spoke up.  “That’s tough, kid.  Sorry to hear that.  Everyone should have a mother, someone who loves them no matter what; doesn’t have to really be a mom, though.”

Mort shook his head, long bangs sliding down to cover his grey-green eyes, “No.  I was raised in foster care.  Never stayed anywhere long.”

Keema made sympathetic noises but didn’t say anything.

Mort shoved the hair back behind his ears, shrugged and continued, “Got picked up by the feds when I hacked the space docks and double-parked the entire fleet.”  A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “I was nine,” he almost bragged.  

He shrugged again, refusing to make eye contact with either Keema or Vidal, “They weren’t really sure what to do with me.  Sent me to school and early college with a tracker in my arm; then I heard about the Initiative and volunteered.  Jien Garson came to get me out of school herself!”  This last was spoken with pride.

Vidal’s eyebrows rose, and he allowed awe to infuse his voice, “You must have been amazing with computers, then, for Garson to have singled you out like that.”

Suddenly bashful, Mort blushed but nodded, “A little.  I’m better at figuring things out, fixing stuff.  I like working with anything that lets me think up new ways of doing stuff.  Get bored with the same stuff every day.”

“How’d you figure out the water rec system?” interjected Keema.  

“Wasn’t that hard,” Mort answered, “All I really did is program the bots and set them to self-replicate once I’d tested the water and figured out what was wrong with it.”

Vidal laughed, the sound deep and rich, “Kid, you’re gonna be worth your weight in gold in this sector!”

Mort suddenly looked frightened again, “A-are y-you going t-to t-tie me up like M-m-mr. Duquesne?”

Keema growled, low in her throat, a sound Vidal had never heard from her.  “No one is going to hurt you again, so long as you’re with us.  We’re going to feed you, give you a place to live, and, hopefully, a place to work where you’ll be inspired to fix some more of the problems we have.  Resistance, Collective  _ and _ Initiative.  You matter, and we want you to know that.  But no one, and I do mean  _ no one _ ,” with the emphasis, she glared at Vidal, “Is going to force you to do anything.”

Vidal raised his hands and shook his head in the classic, “not me,” defense.  He wasn’t about to tangle with momma-Keema--he knew when a female had taken on that role, and he considered himself a pretty smart guy, certainly not dumb enough to get between a female and her brood, not even adopted brood.

Mort looked at them both, glancing between them, uncertain how to take their apparent camaraderie, “B-but you sh-shot D-d-duquesne,” he said, still nervous.

Keema and Vidal both grinned at this.  Vidal chuckled a little, and Keema only said, “Sleeper rounds, son.  He’ll sleep a few hours, and wake up with a raging headache, a mighty bruise where it pierced because they hit hard, maybe a few powder burns.  But he’ll be fine.”

Mort’s eyes rounded in wonder, “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Nodding slyly, Keema smiled, “From a nasty little vine on one of our home worlds.  You're going to love Havarl if you like strange biology….”


	7. Exaltation is what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara doesn't care much for the Cardinal

Sara’s teeth chattered, and she couldn’t stand touching her rifle, even with her gloves on.  It was that cold.  “It’s official,”  she stated, “Voeld sucks more than Havarl.”

Jaal only laughed and proclaimed, “I find it quite bracing, Pathfinder!”  Both women glared at him.

Cora gave up when Jaal only continued smiling.  She turned to Sara instead and jibed, “If you were really mad at Drack for pushing you over a cliff, Ryder, you would have made  _ him _ come down here.  What did I do to get this duty?”

Ryder sighed, “Honestly?  It was you or Liam, since I need someone between me and whatever is shooting or wants to take a bite out of me.  And Liam never stops talking!”  

Ryder’s words left Cora uncertain about whether to respond or not, so Sara continued, “Who’s keeping track of all the stuff we’ve been asked to take care of?  I can’t even remember half of it.”  Cora continued to look blankly at her.  Sara was sort of glad to see she wasn’t the only one surprised by the sheer number of things they’d been asked to do since setting foot on the planet.

Face grim and serious, Jaal’s voice was quiet with concern, “The Angara here certainly seem to be suffering terribly.  We should help them.”

Cora grew animated again, “No. We should search for the Periphona’s signal.  The Asari ark might be here somewhere.”

Shaking her head, Sara said, “There’s too much to do and too few of us down here.  Let’s get some help.  SAM?”

“Yes, Pathfinder?”

“Would you ask Drack, Liam and Vetra to form up another team and help with recon?  We’ve got the Nomad, but I’m betting the resistance can lend them a land vehicle or even a shuttle.  Let Vetra handle that part--she’ll get what they need--or she’ll call Evfra, and he’ll do it.”

“Was there a particular task you had in mind for them, Pathfinder?”

“There are a lot of Kett here.  Have them start clearing some of the small structures we’ve bypassed.  Remind them to search for anything we can use--Drack and Liam tend to get lost in battle and sometimes forget why we’re really here.  Put Vetra in charge of that, too.”  Seeing Cora carefully  _ not _ looking at her, Sara continued, “And have them track down the signal for the Periphona.”

“Yes, Pathfinder,” said SAM.

“And what will we do, Ryder?”  Jaal’s expression was carefully neutral, but she knew there was actually a lot going on behind it.  It was in the swirling color of his eyes.

Sara refused to let her teeth continue to chatter.  She pushed her biotics, covering her body in a thin shield of blue to hold the heat in.  Then she grasped her weapon, squared her shoulders, and pronounced, “We’re going to figure a way into that facility and get the Moshae.”

 

**********

 

Sara held a hand over her face, trying not to inhale through her nose as she was forced to breathe.  The place smelled, and looked, like a charnel house. In previous weeks, she had become  uncomfortably familiar with the smell of death, but this was worse than anything she’d ever smelled before. Perhaps the Kett had removed their sense of smell through the same sort of genetic engineering they’d been using to “exalt” the Angara.  Still, Sara couldn’t understand the sheer waste of life she was seeing here.  Not only those in pods awaiting the exaltation to. . . Kett-dom?  Kett-hood?  She growled low in her throat.  It didn’t matter!  It was wrong!

Wrong to waste people. Wrong to treat them like so much harvested wheat, left to rot when determined not useful or useable, inedible, maybe?  Stupid brain; this is serious shit!  It was a coping mechanism.

Even while she was thinking all this, she and SAM were working on the lock of the door, trying to get to the landing bay area where it seemed the last Kett had fled.  She was angry enough now to kill every green-skinned, green-armoured  _ thing _ she saw--didn’t matter who they were.  Jaal had been openly weeping for some time now in between bouts of bloody battle.  Sara let her breath out in a whoosh when the door finally slid open.  She hadn’t even realized she was holding it.  Jaal and Cora charged through, weapons already firing.  Sara followed just in time to see. . . no one.  Only the Moshae, a frail-looking Angaran woman lying on the the ground.  They rushed to help her.

Jaal looked her over quickly and said, “Vitals are in the danger zone.  Her immune system’s been decimated.”

They heard a hoarse shout behind them, and turned to see the Cardinal on her feet again, “You will not take it!” she yelled. “It is meant for the Archon himself.”

“Wait,” Sara objected, “Didn’t we just kill that thing?”

Guns were up again, and Cora had an obviously itchy trigger finger.  The woman was actually grinning--maybe she liked the idea of killing the crazy Kett female again.  

Sara forestalled them all by thrusting her arm around the Moshae’s waist and helping her to move, “She’s coming with us,” she said firmly.

The Moshae objected--and why not, thought Sara.  It was just a crazy day all around.  

“These Chosen join with us to become great beyond your ability to understand,” said the Cardinal.  

_ Great!  More crazy on the side! _

“Like them I too was once wretched, but the exalted DNA of our great Archon now entwines with mine."  Her voice grew stronger and more resounding with the conviction of her belief. "I stand on the shoulders of his greatness.  As they do.  As one day you will.”

_ So speaks every fanatic ever _ , thought Sara.  But she only said, “Aww, see, that’s where you got it wrong.  We already have plans.”

“Pathfinder, I am tracking multiple inbound Kett cruisers,” SAM intoned in her head. Could this day  _ get  _ any better?

“You will all be exalted,” continued the Cardinal.

Sara rolled her eyes.  “Yada, yada.  SAM, can we shut this crazy monkey shit down?”

“I’ve accessed the EM field.  I can overload it at your command,” SAM replied.

After a brief back and forth discussion regarding the pros and cons of trying to save all the Angara in the facility, the Cardinal saw a chance to salvage something.  She offered to release all the pods if Sara would leave the “holy place” intact.  Holy place?  Really?

A bit more back and forth between Jaal and the Moshae.  But Sara made the call.  “Umm. . . okay, sure." She glanced at Jaal, "Have the Resistance get as many out as they can before the other Kett get here.” 

The Cardinal spoke into her datapad, issuing instructions, “Enact emergency shutdown.  Release all the Chosen.”

“Thank you,” said Jaal.

Giving what Sara thought might be the Kett approximation of a smile, the Cardinal spoke, “And I thank you as well.  I see you begin to understand the gift that the Kett bring to all Andromeda.”  She turned to walk away.

Sara’s lip curled, “See, that’s going too far.” She shook her head incredulously, eyes wide with amazement at the audacity. “Not a gift, bitch.  Gifts are freely given and received.  But by your definition, here’s a “gift” for you.”  She raised her rifle and shot the Cardinal, point blank.

As the Cardinal's body collapsed to the ground, Sara continued, “Maybe your Archon will want one as well.”  She grinned at Cora, “You think?”

Cora grinned back, then she caught movement behind Sara, raised her weapons and shouted, “Kett incoming!”

Jaal yelled, “We need more time.  We must hold them off while the Resistance gets the others out of here!”

"Oh, Geez!" Sara groaned.  Deploying her turret, she looked for a spot to duck and got down to business.  "Jaal, get the Moshae to some cover!  That shield will last longer if she has something else take some of the shots!"

As a group they ran out onto the landing dock to take advantage of the loading crates as cover and to be closer to the shuttles when they arrived.  Sara ducked down with the Moshae, and Jaal and Cora took the fight to the Kett.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of canon and a little veering. But was important to emphasize what Ryder did to the Kett Cardinal. Will matter later.


	8. Okay, who started it? (teensiest bit NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara needs to find her center; Vidal starts a war

“Way to go, kid!”

“They call it exaltation, really?”

“What the hell, Pathfinder!” 

“And you just shot her?”

 “In the back?”

Sarah stood with her arms crossed defensively in front of her as the members of the team who  _ hadn’t  _ been with her in the Kett “exaltation” facility had collective kittens.  Rolling her eyes at their incredulity  and at the too-obvious  _ lack _ of defense from the two who  _ had  _  been there, Sara sniped back, glaring at each person in turn.

“Thanks, Drack, though I don’t think congratulations are really in order.  Yes, Peebee, they really do call it exaltation.  They believe they’re raising the Angara to a higher form of existence.  Yes, Liam, it  _ was _ hell.  And a living death for everyone who went into that horrible place, hence my actions.  And yes, Vetra, I just shot her--in the back, Gil.  Right after she thanked me for recognizing that the mission of the Kett was a glorious gift to those they exalt.”  

Sara’s voice had risen in volume and tenor until she was practically shouting at the end.  When she felt the first tears spill over, she spun to face away from them all, dragging in ragged breaths and trying to calm her tattered emotions.  No one spoke while she gathered herself.

Her next words came out slower, less frantic.  “Yes, I killed her.  And you can’t make me regret it.  You weren’t there.  You didn’t see the bodies everywhere, all the Angara in those awful pods.”  

Her voice broke but she continued, voice barely more than a whisper, “They must have been so terrified when they realized what was happening.”  She had to pause again to swallow past the horror and to calm her breathing which had once again become jagged with pain and fear.

She scrubbed at her cheeks, but the tears continued falling.  She went on, “Most of the Kett we’ve fought since we got to Heleus were probably former Angara.  We have to acknowledge that and accept it.  Because, although they used to be Angara, they most certainly are no longer.”

This last was spoken to Jaal, not in apology, but to force him and the others, maybe even herself, to face the awful truth of it.  This was what they would encounter in days to come.  An implacable enemy that would not be swayed by anguish or emotion of any kind.  An enemy that might once have been a beloved brother, sister, friend.

She turned to confront them again, eyes burning fiercely with anger despite the tears still running down her cheeks. “If the vials and data the second team found in the research compound is real, we may be facing the same eventuality for all the Initiative races.”  She turned to the doctor who’d just joined them at the conference center. “Lexi?”

Lexi seemed unnerved, but she took a deep, shaky breath and reported, “My initial hypothesis is based on examination of two Kett bodies and the team reports, along with discussion with SAM.  The Kett we have examined seem to have no reproductive capabilities.  I think they thrive based solely on frequent influxes of genetic material they take from other races they encounter, enslave and assimilate.”

Sara bitterly interjected, “What they don’t use, they simply throw away like so much garbage!”

Lexi glanced at Sara but said nothing about her outburst.  She continued, “I believe, and SAM concurs, that the process is irreversible.  The Kett DNA functions like a virus once injected.  The process completes, and the beings that emerge after the. . . transmutation, let’s say. . .have no memory of their previous lives.  Their very DNA has been rewritten.  According to the data from the site, new transmutations are fairly quickly and easily trained and indoctrinated in the areas you noted appear to be schoolrooms.”

She nodded her head to emphasize each carefully enunciated phrase of her next statement, “They are Kett, only Kett, nothing else.”  

No one spoke.  Each crewmember seemed transfixed by the horror of Lexi’s words. 

Sara moved back to the center console.  No one made eye contact with her, but she spoke anyway, soft yet resolute, “This is an intractable, uncompromising, unrelenting enemy, one who will not stop so long as there are living beings not Kett that they can use.  To them we are either usable, consumable DNA or worthless flotsam to be eliminated as competitors for resources.   _ That _ is how they see us.   _ That _ is what we face.”  

The crew remained silent and somber, all of them unusually pale or quiet.  But Sara wasn’t finished.  Her last words on the matter were spoken so softly most of them had to look up to see her speaking in order to understand what she said.  She spoke through teeth clenched with the disillusioned rage still coursing through her system. “Do not judge me, my actions or my decisions until you’ve seen it and dealt with it yourselves.  Don’t judge me until they’ve taken your last chance at redemption with someone you care about.   _ Then _ you can talk to me about shooting one of them in the back.”

Sara stared at each crew member in turn, locking glances until each had either dropped his or her gaze or nodded acknowledgement.  Sara turned to make her way to the ramp down to the workstations.  As she passed Drack who still remained rooted to the spot, she said, “Dismissed!”

She really hoped no one noticed how her legs trembled with every step or how her hand shook as she grasped the railing along the ramp. Sara also really hoped she made it to her quarters before she collapsed.  

 

***************************

 

Reyes Vidal sat in the dark absorbing data as it arrived from his network of friends, subordinates and cohorts around Kadara and beyond.  He hadn’t bothered with a light because he didn’t need it to read the datapad.  He also didn’t want to disturb the woman sleeping in his bed.  

Shevasana Aisat was a lovely, fragile woman.  They had been lovers for some time before Vidal had discovered she slept with him more for the protection he could offer her than because she wanted a lover.  Vasa had told him her husband was still in cryo on the Nexus, but he hadn’t initially understood the fears of a lone woman, untrained in defense, in the world of Kadara Port.  

It was only with the rumor of a group of Sloane’s men raping anyone unable or unwilling to pay the “protection” fees they were supposed to collect that Vidal had realized the harrowing predicament many of the refugees from the Nexus lived with here on Kadara.  Pay Sloane’s extortionist protection fees or get beaten, raped, have all your worldly goods stolen and be exiled to the badlands.  

Vidal was angry with himself for not recognizing the problem sooner.  He had asked Vasa about it the next time she came to him, and she had admitted that their relationship wasn’t so much about the sex as the safety he provided.  It had been quite a blow to his ego, but he had managed; after all, Vasa remained deeply in love with her husband.  It was plain to see from the way she talked about him.

And yet, it was Vidal’s bed she currently slept in.  Things were getting worse in Kadara Port.  Sloane was increasingly volatile and unpredictable.  He needed to move up the timetable.  To do that, he would need some neutral, off-world help, the kind only the Initiative could provide.

Vidal picked up his second data pad, the one the kid had set up for him.  He hoped the kid’s encryption was as good as promised.  He sent a message to Dar:

_First, get to Vasa’s place.  Clear it out and off-load to home base.  Setting her up with the kid.  Make it look like a break-in.  Second, appropriate the stuff from Sloane’s drug lab here in town, especially the consoles and other tech.  Burn the place out when you’re done, then plant the rumor about the Collective.  Prepare for backlash._ _-C_

Then he sent a message to Crux:

_ Refugees, extreme value, coming your way along with lab equipment.  Kit out their lab as completely as possible.  Let me know any requirements unfulfilled by current inventory.  Will get whatever is necessary to get production going.  Refugees more important than base, top priority for evac if necessary. Pick-up primary drop location, 0700.  -C _

And a third message to the accountant:

_ Collective having its come-out.  Prep and go on dummy accounts.  Leak word through Kralla’s  rep.  Future contact this channel only until further notice. -C _

Finally, he contacted Keema:

_ Packages outgoing to badlands.  Begin transition to new organization. Top priority: transfer recruits to tertiary base, badlands.  Assignment: plan and implement port heists.  Do not remove trackers.  Not yet trustworthy.  Note: Collective a go; 24 hours. -C _

He prepped his flight plan and filed it.  Then, setting aside both data pads and settling back into his chair with a deep sigh  he scrubbed his hands through his hair and down his face.  His days were about to get much longer and more dangerous.  He’d just declared war on Sloane and her Outcasts.

He stood up and stretched, muscles tight from sitting and working so long.  He would need to fit a workout in sometime this afternoon since the morning was going to be so busy.  Picking up his shirt, he shoved his arms through it and started on the buttons.  He padded over to the bed and watched Vasa sleeping for a moment.  Her makeup had smeared and run during her crying jag last night, but she slept like a child, innocent and carefree.  She was a friend, and they’d gotten each other through a difficult time.  He just hoped he could keep her safe long enough to reunite with her husband one day.

Vidal reached out a hand and tapped her on the hip.  “Time to get up, sweetheart.  I have a run scheduled in an hour.”  

He grabbed his flight suit and started tugging it on over  his shirt and pants while Vasa slowly stirred.  She sat up, pushing her dark hair out of her face.  She looked at him, bleary-eyed. “Reyes?  What time is it?”

“0500,” he answered.  He tugged on his service pistol holster, fastening it securely.

“Oh, god, I fell asleep.  I’m sorry, Reyes.  When I came over last night, I didn’t intend to just fall apart on you and then take your bed.  It’s just that I was so scared when Kaetus threatened to come by my place.”

“It’s alright, Vasa.  No worries.”  He smiled his charming smile, the one he knew women responded to almost without thinking.  “I need you to get up and moving now, though.”

Vasa looked lost for a moment, then gathered herself, “O-of course.  Give me just a few minutes to clean up -”

Vidal stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.  “No, Vasa.  We need you to look. . . well used.”

Her lovely brows drew together, and her dark, almost-black eyes shone with puzzled curiosity.  “Why?”

“You’re leaving with me.  We need to make it look like we’re heading out of port for some privacy.  You won’t be coming back here.”

He regretted his word choice almost immediately.  The fear in her face was actually painful to see.  He rushed to lay her fears to rest, taking one of her hands in both of his and sitting beside her on the bed.  “No, nothing like that.  I’ve got a safe place for you, out in the badlands.  People to help keep you safe.  You’re going to meet a kid named Mort.  I want the two of you to work together.  You’re both brilliant and can be more brilliant together.  You are going to be the heart of our research and development group.  It may take us some time to really get up and running, but I want you safe somewhere you can get to work right away.”

She drew a halting breath and looked at him with wonder, “Truly?  I’ll be out of Kadara Port forever?  No more Sloane?”

He nodded and smiled, “No more Sloane.  But you know I can be a pretty harsh taskmaster, right?  I want to get this place running like a planet should run, not like a no-man’s land controlled by gang warfare.”

She grinned and shook her head, “You know I’ve never been afraid of hard work, Reyes!”  She launched herself at him, hugging with all her might.  “Thank you!  Oh, thank you, Reyes!”

He gently took hold of her arms and removed them from around his neck.  “I’m glad you’re happy.  But we really need to get moving.”  He placed a brief kiss on her forehead and stood up, surreptitiously adjusting his burgeoning erection.  After all, Vasa was a beautiful woman, and his body didn’t understand that his scruples wouldn’t allow it to go there ever again.  

He chivied her into her jacket and getting her things together.  A thought occurred to her, “What about the stuff at my place?”  She was worried again, just like that.  

He was happy to allay this fear as well. “Don’t worry.  I have someone getting your kit for you.”  

She didn’t argue about strangers touching her things, only nodded and followed him out the door.  And that, he thought, said, more than anything else, just how much she had wanted to get away.

  
  
  



End file.
